Among the Squirrels

11 October 2008                Sleeping now in the park

I was diagnosed in July.

They tested me this past summer, in public places and without my consent. Who carried out the tests and who paid for them, I don’t know. They tested me with sounds, foods, colors, behaviors, staged situations, bla bla bla. It lasted over a month, all this testing. I’d be in some public place, and all of a sudden somebody’s doing a test, while one or two other people sit at tables and write notes about my response, or type away on a lap-top. And please don’t insult me with talk of delusions or paranoia or stupidity: I’m smart enough and plenty sane enough to know when someone at a table on one side of me is running a psychological test on me, and someone at the table on the other side of me is watching me and taking notes. These are in no way normal experiences for me in public places.

                                                                        

Update 1 Sept 2009:  So I was living among the squirrels and crows and blue jays and sparrows and chicadees when I first wrote this post, in Turners Falls. The testing had taken place in the summer, in Greenfield, and many of the things I recognized as tests as they were happening. Matthew apparently knew all about this, because when I questioned him about the rhyme and reason for one particular test, he said it was a test of my character. When the tests were over, he told me I had Aspergers. Whether or not you believe that depends on who and what you believe Matthew is, and you’ll make your own judgment on that.

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The Fascist Bureau of Inhumanity

mishiPosted on: 10-06-2008 @ 02:19 pm

 

 

6 October 2008      Still living outside in Turners FallsSix nights outside in a row. The soles of my feet are rotting from always being wet. I’m protected from a bullet (according to Matthew), but apparently from nothing else. Otherwise I am left outdoors to languish in true nazily sadistic fashion day by day. Remember how subject we aspies are to psychological bullying. 

Link to the Shelter Life page of my website.

Update 3 Sept 2009:  As I’ve said other places and other times, after Matthew told me about the FBI protection I believed unshakably that I could not choose my own place to live, that the federal people were in charge of that. Matthew knew I believed this. And here I was 11 months ago, living outside and waiting for the feds to do what I believed they were supposed to do. If in fact the FBI is/was in my life, then I am no more a human being to them than I was to the psychotic landlady, or the mafia-chick, or the Department of Mental Health.

 

 

           

 

 

 

 

 

still waiting

mishiPosted on: 10-04-2008 @ 10:36 am

 

 

sat 4 oct 2008….    Turners Falls 

  I continue to sleep outside. It was 37 degrees when I stood up in the park this morning at 5 a.m. Then I went to a cafe full of “christian” citizens who all gave me big smiles, as if this were all cute in some way, me living in the park. This is how I, as a person with Asperger’s, regard people giving me cheerful smiles when something very bad is going on: they aren’t taking the bad thing seriously. They aren’t giving me support, or help, or compassion. They’re giving me these idiotic smiles that completely dismiss the seriousness of what’s going on in my life. And when they smile, they expect me to smile back. I live in a park. Everyone I love has been taken and hidden, and for all I know they have all been killed. I have a man in Greenfield who told me some very nasty types want to hurt me. Why in the hell should I be smiling? Just because you want it.  (the homelessness page of my website).

When you look at my WrongPlanet profile, no posts show up for this blog. I wrote to Alex about it, and he told me it might have something to do with the user name Mishi. I don’t understand why that should make any difference.

Update 9 Sept 09 — I’m in Turners Falls again today, the town where I first wrote this post when I was living outside for two months, minus one week sleeping in the laundromat. I cannot look at any Turners resident without bitterness, especially the ones who’ve known me the longest. No one offered me a couch, a spare room, a shower. Certain of them knew what had become of my animals and to this day will not tell me. If they gave me anything at all while I was living outside, the ones who’d known me the longest gave me these brainless, dismissive smiles. I had plenty of reason before the destruction of my life to think of these people as callous, selfish, unchristian christians. How much more reason do I now have to see them as heartless, soulless, tight-fisted, phonies with no moral code whatsoever.

 

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2008-2011 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.